


All That is Right

by Elliott_Fletcher



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Canon Compliant, Experimental Style, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, fragments, killua-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:39:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10129244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elliott_Fletcher/pseuds/Elliott_Fletcher
Summary: And Killua asks himself, How long until I'm alone again?He knows it's only a matter of time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was a release for me. I needed to write hxh because i'm binge watching the series again. This is a different style, more fragment-y, but I hope you like it. Takes place from the start of the hunter exam to after they rescue Killua from his family. Please enjoy!

Maybe if Killua kept a journal, it would look like this. But he doesn't. He just . . . thinks sometimes. 

* * *

 _It's torture,_ the applicants running at his side say. Killua likes to laugh at them. But sometimes it hurts too much to laugh (and most times that pain isn't from the laughing).

It's torture.

* * *

Killua finds Gon's gaze at the same level as his own, and it's easy to hold, but it's more than that. There is something humble within them that makes it easy to look over his shoulder and catch his gaze.

Gon's eyes are the kind of brown that is always changing colours. It catches the light, and then dirt is amber, amber is gold, gold is blinding white and a glint that marks determination, and then the dark blends all colour black. Killua keeps looking back only to find something he has never seen before, something he does not know how to see. (He thinks, quietly, that maybe that is the reason he keeps looking).

And then Gon runs to his side, and he doesn't have to look back at all.

* * *

There's a hand he wants to hold when he jumps. It's dark and brown and speckled with freckles a shade lighter than the skin. Killua wants to hold that hand, but he keeps his own firmly jammed into his pockets.

He's never wanted to hold a hand before.

* * *

Gon returns, all tired but bounding limbs, to tell him he got that Old Man to use his other hand, that he won, and he smiles. 

Killua doesn't know how, so he just looks in awe.

Gon has a smile made of even teeth and arching gums. They've receded from where he probably didn't brush them regularly as a child (stubbornness, presumably). It bares so many teeth it should be ugly - but it isn't. It is a smile Killua sees often, now. It evokes a warmth in his throat he cannot swallow away, and it pools in his chest until his lungs are fluidy, and it pings through his heart and into his bloodstream - and Killua could tell you everything about the human system, from the vital points to the muscles, and nerve endings, and tendons, and bones, but he could not explain, could not give a logical reason for this feeling.

Romantics might call it love. Killua just calls it _Awful._

* * *

Their hands grip together in victory when they see each other at the finish line, both with the right amount of white applicant tags. Gon's strength is tight and reassuring, sweaty and hot with life, and a pulse beats in the center, beats straight into Killua's own palm. He clasps with both hands, shaking in his shoulders, steady in his gaze, and they nod to each other in silent promise.

It's the first hand he's ever held.

He never wants to let it go.

* * *

Staring into his Brother's eyes, words swirl like taunts, but when he looks closer, all he sees is the truth. The words ask him questions that bite him in the crooks of his elbows or the soft beneath his chin, and he cannot prepare for them, cannot dodge their attack. They ask:

_How many times can you look into his eyes and still feel this way?_

He doesn't know.

_Will it fade?_

He doesn't know.

_Will your hostility stay dormant forever?_

He hopes to every god he doesn't believe in it will. But he doesn't know.

_Are you safe from time's tainting fingertips?_

Something within himself whispers, _Surely nothing can last forever_. That's when he knows his Brother's poison has begun to sink in. 

_How long until you slip up?_

_How long until you snap?_

He doesn't know.

_How long until you kill him?_

He does know he'd sooner kill himself than Gon, but he cannot stop the poison by then, and he thinks, _How long until I'm alone again?_

He knows it's only a matter of time.

* * *

His Brother holds a whip in one hand and a remote in the other. He says, 'look at your hands!' but they are chained high above his head. 'Your hands are Killer's hands - don't use them for anything else! Killing is all that's right,' he says.

Killua reminisces through the pain about the moment he held Gon's hand in his, and how nothing had ever felt more right than that.

* * *

And when he sees Gon's face again, he isn't met with a smile. He's met with a force, arms around his shoulders, a breath heaving into his that says, 'I was already your friend, Killua.'


End file.
